Vagabond
by Sea Scorpion
Summary: Jaune never made his way through Beacon, expelled for forging his transcripts. Unable to give up on his dream of being a Huntsman, yet stopped from earning his license by fate, he made his own way in the world, learning its lessons the hard way. A chance encounter reunites old friends, but when old enemies resurface, the wanderer will have to decide what truly defines a home.


**Hey everybody, long time no see. I felt the urge to actually write fanfiction again, and this time I've decided that I'm gonna really stick with it, even if I don't want to. I'm gonna try and get bi-weekly updates out for this, and any other story I decide to write, but for now let's stick with this. This is new for me, as it's not some cringy OC fanfic written by myself as a thirteen-year-old, rather, it's a slow-burn Dragonslayer fic. Enjoy the story.**

* * *

**Vagabond**

**Chapter 1:**

_**"Reunion"**_

There was a light fog in the air this morning. Jaune noted it passively as he jogged into the decently sized frontier town of Hale. The humidity penetrated through his sweat pants and his dry-fit shirt, and with his sweat, left him uncomfortably wet, like he was in a sauna. Of course, that image was shattered by the cool air that autumn brought with it. Seemingly in spite of the season, and the expectations of most settlements made by humans, the town of Hale was quite green. Deep and verdant green, the type of green that spoke of life and heavy vines. It was something Jaune loved about the place, and why he stayed there quite often.

As he passed by the town's grocer, he took in what he thought was gray predawn light, and then realized it was past sunrise. It seemed like today would stay overcast. He continued on down the yet to be paved gravel road, down into the heart of the town, where a few other morning folk like him stirred as they, too, began their day. Jaune finally arrived at his destination, a concrete and metal building that didn't blend with the natural scenery as well as the rest of Hale did, knocked on the large, wooden garage door loudly, and waited. When, about a minute later, he heard no response, he knocked again, much louder, and was rewarded with a startled yelp reaching him, one muffled by the door in between them.

The door began to raise shortly, and Jaune smiled lightly as he saw the man in the garage.

"Morning, Garret. Sleep in?"

Garret, a dog faunus with two small ears barely hidden by his shaggy hair, replied in a gruff voice, "No, ya just get up too damn early."

He readjusted a jacket that failed to shroud his burly frame, before moving further into the garage, stepping past scattered tools and metal parts as he went, towards a slightly raised dais in the back. Jaune followed eagerly, excited to see the fruits of his friend's labor.

"Now, the first thing you need to know is that if you find a way to mess this paint-job up, it probably involves ruinin' the whole thing. Per request, the paint should even stand up to a few gunshots, as long as they ain't Hunter weapons."

Jaune nodded absent-mindedly, imagining what the bike looked like under the canvas that lay over it.

"You paying attention?" Without looking at Jaune, Garret continued, "O'course you ain't. You're prolly chompin' at the bit to see it."

After a brief moment of silence where Jaune pointedly didn't refute his statement, Garret grinned and grabbed the tarp, tugging it off of the shape it covered. Jaune's eyes widened as he took it in, and he was unable to stop a massive grin overtaking his face.

The relatively massive motorcycle in front of him was a masterpiece. It was a tour bike, but only by virtue of the fact that it was designed for long expeditions. A fuel efficient hybridized dust engine, using red dust for combustion and blue to cool it and avoid any severe damage, the bike was able to hit top speeds around 200 miles per hour, and could take a beating as well. The only reason Jaune knew the bike so well was because it had been a birthday present to himself about half a year ago, to make all his traveling easier.

The part he was excited about today was the redone paint job. It had originally come in white, as the Journeyman model bike was mostly used for military means, but now was cast in a light silver, with a yellow Arc family crest on both sides of the angular, yet sleek, machine.

"This is awesome, Garret. Really. I can't wait to ride it." He placed a hand on the middle-aged faunus's shoulder.

"It's no problem, Jaune. Least I can do for the man who saved my daughter-in-law."

Jaune grinned again, replied, and carried on with small talk for a few minutes more before taking his leave. Garret helped him get the bike off of the work stand, and Jaune threw on his helmet and set off. He was behind schedule.

It only took him a few minutes to make it back home, hop in the shower, and grab some food from the nearly empty fridge on the way out the door. When he walked out, however, it was not in the workout clothing he'd entered in.

Jaune had been reluctant to have his gear tampered with at all, excepting basic maintenance and rare repairs. As a result, he hadn't modified his armor as much as added onto it. Additional layers of lightweight but durable plating had been added to his shoulders, making them bulkier in appearance, and his chestplate had a rear layer, one that connected to armor that wrapped around his sides and connected to his backplate, covering his ribs and kidneys. Finally, shin greaves and boots that connected to the metal knee-pads he wore were placed on top of a pair of jeans. Under all the gear on his torso he also still wore a plain black hoodie, for the sake of comfort as well as familiarity.

Crocea Mors, still ever the old reliable workhorse sword and shield it was, had also been joined by an assault rifle slung over the boy's shoulder. All together with his armor, a Hunter-grade firearm, Crocea Mors, and his bike, the small fortune Jaune had made taking hunter jobs over the past three years was either worn or rode upon.

When Jaune took off, he basked in the feeling of traveling once again, feeling the wind whip across his clothes and the visor of his motorcycle helmet. He felt free, and as he made his way from his little forest cabin back towards Hale, on dirt roads that were still sometimes used by horses, he let his mind drift. It was as he thought of how far he'd come that his thoughts inevitably turned to the event that had changed everything.

* * *

_The blonde knight sat in the chair, staring at headmaster Ozpin's steepled fingers with poorly-hidden apprehension. His leg bounced rapidly up and down and a nervous sweat beaded upon his brow. He'd been called straight out of class for this, meaning it was important. After the breach a few weeks ago, students getting called out due to various concerns had been more common, though it was mostly just for physicals. If the students would need to see harsh combat before they should, they'd at least be ready for it. _

_However, Jaune had a sinking suspicion, considering where he sat, what this was all about._

_"Mr. Arc. I had hoped to have this conversation with you much later, but my hand was forced. For that I do apologize."_

_Jaune's mind raced with what he could mean, wondering how to ask without potentially incriminating himself, before the choice was taken out of his hands entirely. _

_"Your father has called, and demanded that you be removed from Beacon. I told him that you were seventeen; your decisions were legally your own to make. To counter this, he brought up the matter of your forged transcripts. I would like you to know that we were aware of the fact that they were forged, and let you stay in due to reasons I'd rather not disclose. However, considering your father knows your transcripts are forged, I cannot shelter you here from legal consequences. The best I can do is expel you and not press legal charges for fraud. I... I am sorry I cannot do anymore."_

_Jaune looked at the man who had given him potentially the worst news in his life with a mixture of shock and resignation._

_"So... I'm getting expelled? There's nothing that can be done?"_

_Ozpin merely nodded. _

_"I hate to rush this, as I know it's been brought upon you very suddenly, but you need to be gone before the school day ends. Technically, your expulsion was yesterday, and Beacon's policies are also enforced by the council, at least in regards to legal issues. They will not be as lenient as I am. If you'd like, I can call up your team and give you some time-"_

_"No. I'd rather... I don't want to have to say goodbye like this. I know they'll try to fight things that they can't. They'd be too stubborn. Can you explain what happened? To them and Team RWBY? We're all pretty close."_

_Jaune saw a bit of approval appear on Ozpin's face before the man spoke. _

_"A wise, if not difficult, decision, Mr. Arc. I applaud your selflessness."_

_ Jaune gave a weak "Thank you." in response, and, when nothing more was said, left to gather his things._

* * *

A ringing broke Jaune out of his melancholy reverie. Pulling a tight turn on the bike, he quickly keyed the answer tone on his helmet, speaking through the connection to his scroll.

"Jaune here."

A voice came through, somewhat muffled by the rumble of the bike against the ground.

"Jaune! It's Morgan. Where are you now?""

A bit of dirt spraying up in the air behind the bike, Jaune replied, "On my way to the Assignment Hall right now." Sensing the urgency in the local handler's voice, he continued, "What's the problem?"

"Remember the fresh hunter I told you about? First real mission since graduation?"

Jaune's thoughts, for a split second, flashed back to his expulsion. He'd be right there too, just graduating, if he hadn't been expelled.

"Yeah. I remember the rookie. What about 'em?"

"She just took off for the nightcrawler hive!" The panic in Morgan's voice was apparent, and Jaune sympathized, if just a bit less emphatically. Morgan, as a handler, was at least somewhat responsible for all hunters that operated in her area, and nightcrawlers were dangerous Grimm. The unnaturally sized spiders were fond of using webbing and traps to catch prey, and weren't exactly slouches in direct combat. They'd been the end of many bright-eyed recruits in the past.

Jaune let out the long sigh of someone who was going to have a busy day.

"The nest is on the road between Hale and Shard, right?"

"The end closer to Shard, yes."

"I'll let you know when I get there. Talk to you later."

The engine of Jaune's bike roared, and a cloud of dust kicked up in the air, the wheels churning for traction as he took off. He'd need to get there quickly, or else there might be one less Hunter around. And, despite what the council might say, there was certainly a need for every warrior humanity could get. Jaune was living proof, considering he could get work even without a Hunting license.

When someone was in enough trouble to need the skills of a Hunter, they rarely cared for something as trivial as a Hunting license. In fact, in some cases they preferred the fighter without one, hoping they'd be a little less inclined to report illegal activity. Jaune couldn't count how many times he'd taken jobs from info brokers and the like to take care of drug dealers, gangsters, and other less scrupulous groups, often working for the lesser evils. He tried to avoid killing where he could, but...

But the world was a harsh place. It was something he'd learned firsthand.

* * *

Yang Xiao-Long considered herself a skilled warrior. She liked to see herself as ready for anything. That was why, when she found herself surrounded by vicious, bloodthirsty creatures of Grimm, instead of panicking, she engaged them. It was something she'd trained four years to do, and she did it well, graduating almost best in her class. She'd never seen nightcrawlers before, the arachnids native to southern Sanus, further from the kingdom of Vale, but she was a Huntress. She just did what came naturally.

One spider lunged at her on too-long legs that suspended it above the ground, letting out a clicking growl as it did so. The growl turned into a high-pitched squeal as she dodged the attack and splintered the joint of it's chitinous leg with a vicious axe kick. A round to it's face from Ember Celica silenced the harsh noise, before she continued her assault.

Spider after spider attempted to bring her down, yet they all met their end at her hands. The clearing she was in was littered with the quickly fading corpses of the creatures and shells from her gauntlets melded with the carpet of leaves on the forest floor. She weaved in and out of them with a grace that the force of her blows belied, planting devastating strikes at weak joints and faces and then disengaging before they could counterattack.

Yang fought with rhythm; one of the reasons she was so good at keeping up the pressure. She felt out the flow of a fight and didn't let the tempo drop, making sure her opponents never got a moment's reprieve, keeping them on the back foot. That was why, when the strictly close-up brawl with the nightcrawlers turned into a large strand of sticky webbing slapping onto her upper back and left shoulder, she was left trying to recover from the sudden loss of any sort of pattern in the fight.

The fresh webbing stretched slightly, and her stomach felt queasy at the warm, gummy texture it had as it stuck to her clothes. While Yang went from just fighting the nearby grimm to both that and dodging the ones attacking her from afar, the webbing quickly solidified and began to feel more like a flexible concrete than anything else. As she fought she realized how much it restricted her left arm, and made a mental note not to get hit again. That was much easier said than done however, what with the tide of arachnid grimm seemingly unceasing.

She made it almost a full minute before another shot of the clingy goo caught her left leg, quickly drying to limit her movement even further. It was only about thirty seconds before the next hit her. A fourth landed on her just after that. It was as she went to sidestep a lunging spider that she stumbled, the web stopping her leg from completing the motion, and took her first hit. She killed the thing easily with her return blow, before taking another hit from one that had come up behind her. They were swarming even worse now, trying to repeat history and drag another huntress down with sheer numbers. The worst part being that if their ranks didn't thin out soon, it would work.

She could activate her semblance and probably break free of the webbing, but the grimm weren't hitting her hard enough to get it going. They were picking her apart slowly, not letting her build up enough pressure to erupt, and even if it was unintentional, it kept her from using her ace in the hole. Blasting another one of the creepy-crawlies into a red mess, Yang did her best to keep up the pressure even as the odds ever so slowly began to tilt away from her. She took more hits from the webbing, and from dripping mandibles, but gave much more than she took.

The blonde brawler went to step back and counter attack, only for the maneuver to turn into a fall as a poorly aimed glob of webbing struck right across her shins, causing her to topple over. Her head actually hit the ground first, sending black spots across her vision when the unexpected blow left her dazed. She was unprepared for the nightcrawler that bunched up to pounce upon her, still trying to recover, and was so out of focus she failed to hear the guttural roar of an engine approaching.

* * *

Jaune would've gotten off of his bike at the edge of the forest, trekking in on foot to better address the situation before making a move, but dropped the thought when he heard gunshots a distance away. Stealth did no good when they'd already been found. The knight revved his bike harder, nimbly dodging through the trees and blasting through lighter swathes of foliage when he could, sending showers of leaves and twigs flying when he did.

It was as he closed in that he got a glimpse of the battle in between the trunks and greenery, and he saw the rookie go down. The grimm that attempted to pounce upon her squealed and began to fade away as he collided with it in the air, leaping off of his bike and letting it skid to a halt among the bed of leaves on the forest floor. Jaune landed and kicked the next foe out of the air as it leapt for him, and by then Crocea Mors was in play.

Long, sweeping cuts and heavy smashes from his shield tore into their ranks, Jaune watching for the webbing and either dodging or using his shield to defend himself. He separated legs from bodies, crushed carapaces with tremendous shield-bashes, striding into the fray like a true Huntsman would, and the air rung with shrill screeching and clicks as he fought. After what felt like two minutes but was more like ten he finally planted his blade through the abdomen of the last spider, cutting off it's scream with a violent twist. The clearing fell silent.

Jaune scanned his surroundings, ensuring the bloodshed was truly over, before making his way back to his bike. He pulled it upright, and, reaching into the sack slung along the side, pulled out a plastic bottle, and tossed it over to his ward. He hadn't gotten a good look at her, but he knew when she'd gotten the chance she'd been back on her feet, fighting her own battle not far from him. For someone tangled in nightcrawler webbing she wasn't bad. Without looking at her, rummaging through the sack some more, he spoke, his voice somewhat muffled by the speaker it came out of.

"You alright over there, newbie? They didn't break your aura but I wanna be sure."

"I'm fine, thanks. You saved my ass back there." He heard a noise of disgust, something resembling "bleh", and she piped up again, "Eww, what is this?"

Jaune smirked in his helmet as he dug out his water canteen. "Vinegar. It breaks down their webbing quick and makes it less sticky, easier to get off. As much as they got on you we'll have to take you into town to get rid of it, but that should take care of what's on your legs at least." Jaune pulled off his helmet finally, placing it on the seat of his bike, and took a drink from the canteen, rinsing the water around in his mouth a bit before swallowing. "You thirsty, newbie?" He frowned as he turned to face her, realizing he'd have to start calling her by name sooner rather than later, and lamented not going over the paperwork last night like he was supposed to. "Also, what's your ..." Jaune trailed off.

The newbie was busy slathering vinegar on the length of webbing that glued her legs together, and as he broke off, she replied, "Name? It's Yang, not newbie. Then again it might not be so wrong calling me that, you really had to bail me out. How about you? What's your name?" Yang said, finally looking up.

Lavender eyes studied him for a moment, before widening in recognition. She spoke.

"Jaune?"

* * *

**And that's a wrap for now everyone, please remember to review if you saw something you liked, and if you saw something you didn't like tell me what it was so I can improve, constructive criticism always helps.**

**See you guys soon, **

**Sincerely, Sea Scorpion.**


End file.
